


Ivan-You-Emperor

by Zoya1416



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Emperor by Default, Gen, Puppet Masters, Trapped on the Camp Stool, WE REQUEST AND REQUIRE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU of Gwynne's AU "Nightmare." Just after the events of "The Vor Game," Ivan has been made Emperor against his will. He's not coping very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ivan-You-Emperor

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nightmare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/931793) by [Gwynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne). 



> Vorkosigan is all LMB's.  
> "Nightmare" belongs to Gwynne  
> I am playing in their sandboxes

The crisis came three week after his accession. Emperor Ivan Vorpatril Vorbarra was in a meeting with his Prime Minister and the head of Imperial Security.

Simon was trying to explain why ImpSec needed to expand its budget now that he was Emperor, since Sergyar was presenting new worries. Its previously happy subjects were nervous after the regime change, demanding more Imperial presence to counteract their fears of the neighbors. Tau Ceti hadn't been aggressive in a long time, but it was only one jump away from Escobar, and Escobar was a single jump from Sergyar. Sergyar didn't want a repeat of the First Cetagandan war if Escobar fell to or was compromised by an invasion from Tau Ceti. It was an unlikely scenario, but they wanted to allay Sergyar's anxieties.

Aral agreed with Simon but was concerned about the additional drain on resources, both of finances and of key personnel.

Ivan was sipping coffee and not concentrating. He was again glumly contemplating his personal purgatory. Gregor had abdicated happily after his adventures off Komarr. Gregor was free on Beta now, while the whole Imperium was dumped on Ivan. Gregor was dead, legally.

These men had perpetuated a fiction which claimed the Emperor had been killed by yet another round of Komarran terrorists. He'd never ever see Gregor again, and that thought hurt very much.

Aral had long refused to take the Imperium, and Miles—he knew in his heart no one would accept the twisty little maniac as Emperor. He'd suggested to Illyan that they hold a raffle or draw names out of a hat, but Simon had refused. Then Miles had suggested, not very seriously, the heirs of Vordarian or Vordrozda, and he'd snarled, “Over my dead body,” which meant that at least part of his mind WAS taking this Emperor thing seriously.

There were some very tempting pastries on the desk in front of him. How long would it take him to eat enough so he'd explode—no, he didn't want to spoil the lines of his uniform. His new uniform. House Vorbarra colors.

Aral was growing impatient with his obvious inattention.

“Are you even listening to us, Ivan you id--” Aral choked off his words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but the damage was done. An enraged Ivan flung himself out of his ergonomic chair so fast it turned over. He turned hot eyes on the pair.

“Kneel to me! Right now, the two of you!”

He didn't stop to see if it was done, but stalked in fury to the tall window, looking out at the Vorbarr Sultana he could no longer walk through casually. He hated this, hated it. 

There would be no more solitary lightflier rides, no more taking pretty girls out to whatever spontaneous venue he chose, no more crawling home drunk— 

He was shaking at having spoken this way to men who'd commanded him his whole life. But no. No more of this casual disregard from his advisers.

He calculated the number of seconds it would take to render creaky knees painful, and then added ten more. After turning back to the chair and righting it, he walked around the desk and placed his hands on Aral's head, controlling his trembling fingers.

“Do I need to have you repeat your oath to me, Prime Minister?”

“No, sire.”

He repeated this with Illyan, and then commanded them to rise and remain standing.

Seating himself, he crossed his arms and glowered at them.

“I am the Emperor of three planets. I never wanted to be, hoped like hell I'd never be, hoped everyone ahead of me would come to his senses and let me out of this nightmare. But they didn't. Your hands are between mine. I take note of the issues you have presented here, but they are not my immediate concern this day.”

“I want you, Captain Illyan, to provide more information about an embezzling scheme I suspect is happening with the tendering process for that new space platform. I think that Vorkaropoulas is in bed with House Bharaputra, and Admiral Stinson kept pushing their bid. The Admiral's wife is buying new gowns from Estelle's, and I know exactly how expensive they are. They're planning a Nexus trip, and have a new holiday home on the South Continent.”

He took a deep breath, realizing he was stepping off a cliff, but didn't look back.

“Prime Minister Vorkosigan, you are Requested and Required to give Captain Illyan all help with this.”

There. He'd said it for the first time. And nobody shot him with a nerve disrupter. 

“WE will consider other problems tomorrow. Captain Illyan, you may leave.”

Once Simon was out of the room, Aral turned once more to Ivan.

“Sire, I apologize for my...”

Ivan cut him off. 

“For what, Uncle Aral? For never educating me for this role, even though you knew how close to it I was? For paying so little attention to the orphaned son of, as you have said many times, your closest and dearest cousin? You gave two hours of your day, every day, to Miles, and I don't begrudge him that. But how often did you spend two hours with me, alone?”

He continued in a furious tone.

“For as long as I can remember, you have called me an idiot, even while telling me I needed to take care of Miles. And I did. I did my very best to keep everyone safe and happy, and that included Gregor and Elena, while that maniac came up with dangerous scheme after scheme. I'm not the one who found that tank and insisted on using it. I'm not the one who raced off in high dudgeon after he failed out of the military academy. I'm not the one guilty of violating Vorloupulous's law by raising a private army. I haven't taken the route Gregor did, disappearing from a Komarran hotel and frightening all of you for days. I'm here now, learning this role by on-the-job training, and WE will not be your puppet.”

Thoughtfully he gazed at the ceiling. He might as well get as much mileage as he could out of being the Emperor today, because he didn't know whether he could do it again tomorrow.

“It occurs to US that a proper use of your talents might be taking care of the planet you are worried about. WE think that Sergyar might benefit from the close attention of its two discoverers. WE...” he hesitated, “WE request and require you to prepare a list of three men who could replace you.” Now he'd said it for the second time, and still no bolts of lightening.

His anger was subsiding, but not his new determination. His stomach was fluttering, a sick but exciting thrill running through him. Was this how Miles felt all the time, playing Admiral Naismith?

“I, I, WE will not be spoken to or treated disrespectfully again. And to that end,” he didn't even know where he'd come up with this idea. Some holovid, probably. He bulled onward.

“WE request and require you, and WE will be requesting Simon also, to give US an undated letter of resignation.”

Ivan wanted this meeting to be over. He stood up and raised his hand as Aral started to speak.

“Undated, I said. Write me, US, a letter of resignation, sign it, and give it to US, swearing by your word as Vorkosigan. If further problems arise, WE will sign and date the letter. That is all.” 

He was still looking at the ceiling, biting his lip and blinking, when Aral came around to him and took his hands, saying in a hoarse voice,

“Ivan, my boy, everything you said is true. I didn't do my best by you as a child and young man, and I haven't been doing my best for you as my Emperor.”

He laughed sourly. 

“Vorkosigans come by lese-majesty naturally. My father put his aide-de-camp on the camp stool, but spoke too familiarly to him for years. I'm not sure when Ezar put him in his place, but I know that by the time Ezar died, there was no man on Barrayar more loyal.”

He hesitated, then took Ivan in an embrace, which Ivan did not refuse. “Ivan, please forgive me. I am YOUR subject, and I will aid and assist YOU.”

Ivan could hear the capitalized letters now.

“ If YOU want me on Sergyar, I'll go there. Cordelia would probably be thrilled to be off Barrayar. I'd rather not, since I'm afraid that your Majesty needs me here, but if YOU want me gone, I'll start packing today.”

Ivan stepped out of the embrace, gently, but still gripped Aral's arms. “Uncle Aral, I don't want—I don't think—We are trying Our best. Although I didn't want the job, hell KNOWS I didn't want the job, I think I can be a good Emperor, and I have some of my own ideas of what Barrayar needs. Advise me, but don't undercut me. Go on, now. I bet Simon is having fifteen kittens just outside that door.”

Aral nodded formally, but his eyes crinkled. “I'll bet he is too. I'll talk to him.”

As Aral left, Ivan said, “Oh, by the way, you have Miles to thank for today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he told me last week to be more decisive, more assertive of my own goals. I had no idea how to do that, but I finally figured it out today.”

“Good. Good. Simon and I, we'll help you in any way we can, without putting ourselves over you.”

“That's great, because the next time it happens, you can kiss my—signet ring.”

Aral chuckled and left him.

Ivan let out a breath and went over to the window again. It was a beautiful day, with a touch of autumn in the gold and red leaves. The river sparkled. Vorbarr Sultana, looking at it from an angle he'd never seen before, was his now. And he was its, for better or worse. They had all put their hands between his, and that was right and proper, however much he hadn't wanted this. But his hands were between Barrayar's. And that was right and proper, too.


End file.
